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〃I seen it with my own eyes。 I seen it there！〃
〃No。〃 The voice was still soft； but a manding note had crept into it； and Thomas Lacey stood looking at him fearfully。
When Thomas found his voice he said； 〃It be under the water a long time。 It tore up； twisted； but thass the one。〃
The reverend stared into the other man's eyes； examining them； as if he didn't want to believe what Thomas was saying。 〃C'est possible？〃 he asked quietly； without expecting an answer。 His shoulders sagged forward perceptibly； the sharp blades protruding。 〃Non； non。〃 A bird screamed outside； in the tangle of a protective perch。 〃The white man？〃 the reverend asked。
〃Thass right。〃
〃Leave me alone。 Please。 I want you to go away and leave me alone。〃
Thomas stood where he was； blinking； worried that he had somehow hurt the old man。 He wiped his hand across his mouth。
〃Please；〃 the reverend said； turning away。
Thomas backed toward the door； unbolted it； the reverend was walking down the aisle between the pews； moving toward a doorway on the far side of the podium。 He disappeared into the shadows as if consumed by them。 Thomas stood there a moment； then he opened the door； squinting from the harsh glare。 He left the church quickly； without looking back。
In his meager； cramped living quarters the reverend lit a candle and watched the flame grow to a tall white point。 He reached into a dresser drawer and brought out a locked black box； setting it on top of the dresser。 He took a small key from a pocket and unlocked the box。 He looked through the contents…a white rabbit's foot； a vial of dark…colored liquid； grains of something dark in a paper packet； silver…painted candles； a pair of glasses with tinted lenses。 Finally he found what he sought。 Oui。 There。
A silver case。
He withdrew it and opened it； inside there was a glass eye…blue…on a coiled silver chain。 He put everything away again but the eye； and this he fastened carefully about his neck so that it lay across his chest outside his shirt。
He stepped forward； cupped a hand about the flame； and blew it out。
Standing in the thick darkness； he asked in French； very softly； as if speaking to someone standing just beside him； 〃What do you see？ What do you see？〃
Four
MOORE WAS CHOKING for air； tumbling head…over…heels down into a maelstrom of water。 Around him loomed the huge gray…green walls of the sea； he was captive in a liquid mansion； falling through the thousand rooms； falling from attic to cellar； from light into darkness。
You've left them alone； his voice shrieked at him。 You've left them alone and they're afraid and they don't know what to do。。。
The water had him； closing in； pounding pressure squeezing his lungs。
They're afraid。。。 they're afraid。。。
He braced his shoulders against the sea； straining； fighting it； he kicked upward； encumbered by something yellow and bulky on his body。 The foul…weather slicker。 He kicked again； clawing at the sea； fighting upward against it； the air ebbing from his body with each second。 Don't leave them； you musn't； no； no； no。 Reach them； please oh God give me strength； let me； let me please this time。。。
When he reached the surface he was able to drag in only a small bit of air before the water crashed down over him； driving him under again。 He fought free； staring about wildly in the darkness。 There was a scream of wind and water； as though they were crazed beasts fighting madly。 And caught between them； their boat creating a foaming wave； heeling sharply to port； the water pouring in sheets across the deck。 He could see them reaching out for him； but the ocean separated them and the wind was drawing them away。 He called out for them but the roaring shriek of the storm took his words and ripped them to pieces； spinning them out into space。 He reached out his hand but then the wave came； a mountainous jagged thing of glistening stone； and he watched it； horrified as it crashed down over them； splintering through wood； driving them down in a spray that exploded with the shards of what had been a teak deck。 He could only see them an instant more； frozen in the stucco of foam and black walls； and when he heard his name cried out he wanted the sea to sweep down his throat and take him too； but that was when the spinning section of transom came up under him； forcing him to dig in his nails and cling to it。 It lifted him from height to height and on and on； before him he could read the red letters； the name that seared his brain as if each letter were a point of flame： Destiny's Child。
Please。。。 don't leave them alone。。。 they're afraid。。。 please。。。 please。。。
〃。。。please；〃 he said； opening his eyes and feeling the pinprick beads of cold sweat on his eyebrows。 A soft night breeze wafted in through the open terrace doors。 Palm fronds clattered gently just outside； and he could see their shadows； like fingers； in the pale ivory moonlight that painted one wall of his bedroom。 Somewhere far away； past the village； a dog was barking。 A cockatoo cried in the jungle； a sad and mournful sound of the night。 Moore put his face into his hands； waiting。 God； he breathed。 God。 Some nights they were worse than others； some nights they were so real he couldn't shake them； and they laid back yet another layer of raw flesh。 This one he'd had before； though they were all variations of the same thing。 He hadn't been taking the sleeping pills Dr。 Maxwell had given him for some time； because he always convinced himself he could sleep soundly without them。 Now he wondered if there were enough in the little amber bottle to get him through the rest of the week。 He lay there for a few more moments； and when he wiped his face he realized his eyes were moist。 When he started to get out of bed the girl beside him reached out and caught his arm。 〃What is it？〃 she asked； ing fully awake。
〃It's nothing；〃 he told her。 〃Go back to sleep。〃
She stared at him； her dark eyes darker against the tint of her flesh。 Her hair was cut short…like they were wearing it in Kingston and easy to manage； she had said when he plimented her。 She drew her knees up； lifted her purse from where she'd put it on the floor； rummaged for a cigarette； found one； and lit it。 He sat beside her on the edge of the bed； and she traced a line down the center of his back with a fingernail。 Her name was Claire； she was from Old Man's Cay； and a few more as generous as this one and she could pay a freighter for passage to Trinidad。 〃e on；〃 she said。 〃I'm not sleepy anymore。〃
He said nothing； listening to the roll of the ocean。
After a while she stabbed her cigarette out in an ashtray beside the bed and stood up； her lean； firm body and carnelian…tipped breasts catching moonlight。 She took the clothes she'd folded over a chair and began to dress。 Moore sat where he was。 〃I'd better go；〃 she said。 〃I don't like sleeping in a strange bed。〃
〃Neither do I；〃 he said quietly。
〃My sister's going to get me a job on Trinidad；〃 she said； trying to lighten his mood with some casual conversation。 〃She's a dental receptionist。〃 She narrowed her eyes at his back； struck by his defenseless； unmoving posture。 He had